


Muse

by Killmongurl



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killmongurl/pseuds/Killmongurl
Summary: For Mika and friends, art is everything; from their passion to hobby to source of income. When Mika meets her favorite artist Erik Stevens at comic con she quickly catches his attention, showing her a whole new level of devoting yourself to the arts.





	1. Chapter 1

Mika has been waiting on this event for  _months_.

Today she was going to meet her favorite artist, Erik “Killmonger” Stevens. A quickly rising and sought after author who has dominated any medium he took interest in; mostly, he stuck to one.

A few years ago, during her weekly visit to the bookstore Mika's eye had caught the cover of one of his graphic novels. The art had been so beautifully striking - invasive somehow - and utterly  **violent**.

Slowly, she'd slid it off the shelf and into her curious hands to further inspect it.

A few pages in and the story had completely sucked her in, she'd easily lost track of time that evening, curled up on the floor ignoring the stares her way. She had been nose deep in the book- literally. Soaking in every detail on the page before turning to the next one.

Mika recalls running her finger along those smooth, glossy inked pages, paranoia whispering to her that she'd lose a hand in its pitch black background. The white text narrow and jagged, like broken nails which had clawed through wood, spots of shimmering red dotting across rich pages as evidence. She'd leaned against the bookshelves long after finishing, satisfaction and emptiness at completion. Staring at the photo of Erik on the back cover, she'd knew she  **had** to have this in her possession.

From bloody, gruesome realism to brightly vivid surrealism, coupled with little speech other than a few poetic words that had your breath fluttering the pages. The backgrounds elicited an opposite response; ones that make your breath stop and heart teeter between rising and falling at troubling speeds. If had been akin to being caught in the middle of a debris filled hurricane. Numbingly terrifying and impossible to hide from when it caught up to you. Unable to look away from. Rapturous.

The novel Mika had read that day had been one of Erik's earlier graphic novels:  _Fairy Tales in Oakland_. And it had not only caught her interest at the time but the comic book world at large. Even people _outside_ of nerd and geek culture had been lining up to buy the brutal beautiful graphic novel.

Bloggers were digging apart both the text and art, writing pages and pages of breakdowns and meta.

Entire podcasts were devoted to it.

Rappers had started making shout outs to Erik and his works in their songs.

Celebrities were gushing on social media accounts. Fans were tweeting their favorite directors and actors, creating fancasts for the characters, and creating countless art pieces.

All over a little black boy in Oakland who had stumbled onto his birthright, donned a mask, and fought for a better world.

Depending on who you ask, however, the protagonist (who went by the name Donnie) had a rather skewed view on the world. He was quite dark and rough for a protagonist, something readers will probably never get used to. 

Still, the story had been interesting and it had sparked fun and often deep debates. Sources say, the novel was loosely based on Erik's life growing up, but seeing how private the man was it had never been confirmed.

The only concrete information on him was that he’d had friends in high places, and his parents lived in Oakland where they had strong ties to the community. Also, Erik had graduated MIT with a degree in engineering but hadn’t done anything with it, it was merely back-up if his art career didn’t sustain him.

The latest rare tidbit about Erik had been announced a week ago that he was working with Aaron McGruder on a television show. It was the reason why Mika decided to splurge for this trip. Rather than hearing the news online she'd wanted to feel apart of what was certain to be unlike anything else.

So Mika's best friend Terry had worked her magic fingers to score tickets to Comic-Con before they all sold out. And along with their friend Jamal, it would be the first time either had been to such a large convention.

Luck was on the trio's side however as they sngged a hotel that was only twenty minutes away from the con. Mika could hardly fall asleep that night, sitting cross-legged on the too firm mattress, her worn and weathered Fairy Tales in Oakland resting on her lap. Terry and Jamal had long retreated to their joined room.

She had her alarms set for the morning, outfit picked out, bag for tomorrow mostly packed. She was determined to make this weekend nothing short of perfect.

 

* * *

 

 

That first day of the event Mika had gotten up bright and early. She was intent on getting to Erik’s booth before he had too long of a line and they stopped taking people. 

While the con wasn’t crowded just yet people were running around in a frenzy trying to get first dibs on the best merch and spots in line. The place was already becoming overheated with the mass of bodies swarming in like worker bees, bringing along with them the stench of b.o. and bad breath.

Terry scrunches up her face as a group of men rush by. “If I knew there was gonna be all these sweaty whites here I woulda brought a mask!” 

Mika impatiently gestures towards the direction she thinks Erik’s booth is in. "We'll deal with that later, let's go."

Except Terry being Terry gets distracted and swerves off somewhere into the sea of nerds.

“Where is she going!?” Mika whines, throwing her hands in the air.

“To go stalk some Pearl Mackie look alike from Doctor Who,” Jamal says, easily looking over the heads of the crowd. “Should I go get her?”

He looks at Mika who is vibrating head to toe with anxiousness and rolls his eyes. “A'ight,  _chill_ , lets go before you explode,” he chuckles. “She’ll catch up.”

By the time they make it to the booth about two dozen people are already there. That should give her enough time to calm down. Grinning, Mika squeals behind her fist and bounces on the heels of her converse while Jamal shakes his head, long suffering.

Mika peeks glimpses of Erik from her spot in line and he looks - as humble as she can put it - hot as fuck. He had a sort of rolled out of bed look; his dreads wrapped and his gold rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He was wearing a simple white tee that hugged his arms but hung loose elsewhere, two beaded necklaces and a gold chain, some black crotch drop pants, and military boots.

“Damn, girl, calm yo ass down." Jamal playfully shoulder checks her. “By the time you get up there yo novel gon’ be so wrinkled he might get offended.”

“Oh,  _shit_!” Mika startles in realization, hastily smoothing the dog eared book out with a frown. “It’s already messed up! But that just means it’s well loved.” She hoped he’d see it that way at least.

Jamal snickers. “You acting mad corny right now over this nigga. I ain’t never seen you this thirsty.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, face hot. The line moves forward at a steady pace. "I like his work- I can't help it that my attraction happens to be towards him too."

"Uh-huh."

Mika leans on Jamal as she twists left and right in attempt to get a good view of Erik’s fine ass down the long, shifting line.

Fans and bloggers were snapping pictures and trying to discreetly record Erik on their comically huge phones. As happy as she was for the other fans as they'd exited the line she couldn't help but feel slightly envious towards them. Ridiculous, she knows. That’s about to be her in a few minutes! But she's so nervous, weak as paper in the wind. What if it goes too fast? What if she's so worried she doesn't remember this moment later? Or says something so stupid she wouldn't _want_ to remember it?

She's been waiting so long for this. Fantasizing and dreaming about all the things she'd say. She doesn't realize that she's probably staring a little _too_ hard until after he signs a print of Donnie and looks up, handing the cover back to the fan.

Mika's caught dead in his line of sight, just several people behind now when his gaze lands on _her_.

A strangled gasp catches in her throat. She doesn't move or blink or _breathe_. Her heart is beating so hard she's sure everyone in line can hear it. And when his gaze drops down and back up over her he stares at her again, before his view is blocked by the next person in line.

Swallowing nervously, she wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans and tries to rationalize what the fuck just happened. He wasn’t checking her out. Couldn’t be. She'd only caught his attention because there wasn't a lot of black people currently in line. Erik was known for and controversial for his open dislike of white people, the same people who dominated these conventions and felt entitled to do the most in them; just like everywhere else.

When she's next in line she takes a few deep breaths in attempt to calm herself. Be herself. _And try_ , she mentally reprimands, _not to sound too nerdy and scared as hell_. But damn. Erik was so much bigger than her, she thinks, and he had an intimidating air about him. A ‘don’t waste my fucking time’ type of vibe.

The fan moves away and her whole body stiffens. It’s just her and him now. The laughter and chatter and clicking of cameras dulling into white noise. The look on his face and kind and patient as he gestures her to come closer. She does, unconsciously leaning closer.

Erik’s gaze roams over her again from top to hip where the table cuts off his view. He sits back in his seat and grins, gold canines flashing. “Wassup, baby girl?”

“Hey,” she says, thankfully solid and strong despite the full face fever burning through her skin at the endearment, and his _voice_. “How you doin’?”

“Good, good….and good choice.” Erik taps the novel, taking it from her hands. Mika's heart flutters when their fingers touch. “Got anywhere in particular you want me to sign?”

Mika's eyes widen in surprise at the question. “Uh, yeah! Um…page fifty-two?” She stutters a little, stunned. Most artist or actors at these conventions don’t bother with specifics when it comes to signing, especially if their lines are long as Erik's. They take the object, scrawl their signature, and push it back with a smile and flippant thanks.

Nodding, he grabs a fresh sharpie. “A'ight then. Page fifty-two, I remember drawin’ that one.”

Page fifty-two was a background of a sunset, the sky bleeding orange and red and yellow, the point of view set on top of a mountain. It doesn’t sound special on its own, but if the reader knows the context of it then it would have anyone bawling their eyes out.

The smirk on his face as he flips through the pages of the novel was enough to make her sway on her feet. Jamal was right, she had it bad. “Damn, ma…” He chuckles. “You read the fuck outta this one. I’m surprised you even got it, this some of my early stuff.” Brow furrowing, he goes back to the cover, whooping. “Aah, shit…you even got the original print. You a real one for this.”

Ducking her head, Mika bites her lip to stop from smiling so widely. “It was dope, like, you had all kinds of people coming out for this. Even my cousin bought a copy and he hadn’t picked up a book since high school.” Her smile does break through as he laughs. “It don’t even need all of them words, the pictures themselves was emotional enough.” She shifts nervously on her feet, embarrassed at expressing herself so openly with the person who created one of her favorite stories ever.

“Sound like you know yo stuff." He hums appreciatively, going back to page fifty-two. He uncaps the sharpie. “What’s ya name, baby girl?”

Nervously, she gives out her name and how to spell it. Her heart pounds and she grins excitedly as she watches him sign it. He adds _more_ below their names that she couldn’t see. All the while he’s chatting her up about what else she likes to read and her opinions on this and that show, on the up and coming show he had. When he’s done he closes the book and hands it back to her.

“Ooh, thank you for this!” Mika bounces a little, clutching the novel to her chest making he chuckle again at her unbridled joy.

“Aye, thank you for comin’ out and showing some love.”

Nodding, she nibbles on her bottom lip and turns to leave, feeling a lot lighter than she'd had all morning. She doesn't even care if she's taking up others time, this moment was all hers.

"Aye, you stickin’ around for the next few days?” he calls out before she can turn away.

“Yeah, of course,” she says like she wouldn’t be anywhere else, poking her tongue between her teeth.“ Tomorrow was the first pre-release of his new work and she wasn't going to miss that. "I’m gon’ stop by.”

“Oh, forreal?” He leans back in his chair, running a hand over his cheek. “Every day?”

“You want me to?” She arches a brow, not even realizing how flirty that sounded until it came out her mouth.

Erik licks his lips and juts his chin, staring up her from under half lidded eyes. “Yeah. Come on by.”

“Okay, then.” She starts walking backwards, the largest grin on her face.

“Bet.” Erik points the sharpie at her. “I betta see you or I'mma have them make an announcement.”

Laughing, she waves like the dork he was making her to be until she swivels around, running right into Jamal.

He had the goofiest look on his face as he'd followed her out of the room. “ _Nigga_ ,” he makes a high, keening noise at the back of his throat and shakes her shoulders. “Yo! I saw that. My girl got moves, I see you, working yo game on 'em!”

She rolls her eyes, still smiling while jostling her. “Whatever, whatever…I was just talking. And he was just bein’ nice.”

Smacking his lips, Jamal moves ahead of her, smirking knowingly. “Nah. I know nice. And niggas ain’t  _that_  nice unless we tryna  _tap that ass_.”

Mika shoves him, shrieking with laughter. “Bruh…you is such a pig. Terry need to come get you. He ain’t thinkin’ about me like that! But thanks for the confidence boost.”

Jamal hooks an arm around Mika's shoulder, damn near skipping giddily, his fro shining under the bright, fluorescent lights. “I know what I saw. I _seent_ it with my own two eyes. Now let’s go look for Terry sneaky ass before she go meet Nichelle Nichols without us.”

The rest of the convention was a fun, fast paced adventure. Mika had sat in on seminars and took photos and danced with cosplayers, got some sketches by other artists Jamal was crazy about.

Hours later, the three were sat at a diner a few blocks from the con. The place was packed, some people were still in cosplays. Several bags and tubes and boxes stuffed under the table filled with goodies from the con.

It was there that Jamal’s excitement dwindled down enough for him to remember and mention the way Mika had been acting when she met Erik.

“Hoe, I don’t blame you, he is  _too_  fine.” Terry gushes, leaning over the table to smack her arm excitedly. “That’s why I ain’t come witchu cuz I woulda smooth hopped over that table, did some acrobatic flip, and made a perfect landing straight on his-”

“How you gonna sit there and talk about another nigga like that when I’m  _right_   _here_ ,” Jamal says with narrowed eyes, propping his fist under his chin. There’s no heat in his voice though, used to Terry’s thirsty ass. “And besides, why he going for you when I’m present?”

Terry reels back, scoffing. “Have you seen my hair today, babe? My outfit?” She chuckles. “Boy, you better stop lying to yourself…”

Jamal twists his mouth and looks at her while jabbing a thumb in Terry’s direction. “See, she just mad that I’m the sexy one in this relationship.”

“Bring that ass, here, boo.” Jamal and Terry kiss.

Groaning and gagging, Mika rubs her temples. “Seriously? Right over my hamburger? Y'all both need to stop.”

“Uh-oh, somebody over there gettin’ horny and salty as her fries.” Terry sing songs, elbowing Jamal in the side. “I call for a foursome.”

Mika and Jamal both groan simultaneously.

“I ain’t nothin’,” Mika says, pouting, kind of wishing she did have their kind of relationship. “I swear I can’t stand y'all most days with ya nasty asses.”

“What he sign in your book anyway?” Jamal asks, swirling a crazy red straw around his strawberry milkshake.

Mika sits up straight. “I didn’t even check yet.” Opening ber messenger bag, she pulls the graphic novel out and sets it on the table with a thud.

Terry and Jamal both lean forward, forks clattering and condiments roughly shoved aside to see.

“Dang, y'all nosy!” She snatches the book up and props it on the table, glaring at them from over it.

Jamal smacks his lips. "Why you gotta be like that? Stop being shy and see what he wrote in there- and read it out loud,” he quickly adds.

Cracking open the novel, she turns it to the right page. The first thing she spots in the top corner is Erik’s signature- _Killmonger_. Next to it he put an actual heart. A _heart_. Mika's face burns so hot she wouldn't be surprised if her brain had melted and conjured this up. Her breathing becomes rapid as she looks below that heart.

The next line, he thanks her for being such a loyal fan. That was normal enough. Aside from her name being neatly written in cursive. But she sees that the message doesn’t end there...

“What it say?” Terry snaps at her as she continues staring blankly at the page.

Closing her mouth, Mika blinks repeatedly, dumbfounded. She tries to convince herself that she's seeing shit, maybe the waitress had slipped something in her drink. That would be more believable than what she was seeing with her own two eyes. "Uh…” She clears her throat. “He put that he got somethin’ special for me if I hang around.”

Mika looks up at the wide eyes and slack jawed faces of Terry and Jamal.

“Then he put a smiley face with a wink,” she says, heart hammering, the book growing heavier and heavier in her hands.

“He wanna  _fuck_!” Terry bursts out while wriggling in her seat, catching the attentions of the people around them.

“Bruh…” Jamal drawls and looks at Terry with a flat expression.

“What? That nigga _do_!” She defends over Jamal’s snickering. “He wanna  _fuck_.”

“ _Terry_ ,” Mika hisses. “Keep yo voice down. Hell is wrong with you!?”

“He ain’t in here.”

“I don’t give a flyin’  _fuck_ ,” she stresses, embarrassed as people continue glancing at your table in curious amusement.

Terry just giggles. “So you goin?”

Jamal answers for you. “Hell yeah she goin.”

“ _So..."_  Mika drawls, messing with her braids. “Y'all comin’ with me, right?”

Jamal scoffs, slapping his hand on the table and giving her an  _you is really dumb_  look. “He want you to go alone,  _fool_!”

“Forreal?” She squeaks, unconvinced.

“Yes!” Terry says, throwing her hands up in exasperation, almost hitting Jamal in the face. “ _Go_! Go to the hotel and take a shower. Hurry up too because they gonna be breaking down the booths soon.”

“ _Dang_." Mika laughs, reeling back at their hostility. “Okay, okay. I’m 'bout to go.” She slides out of the booth. “Alone.” She scuffs her shoe on the tiles. “By myself.”

Jamal nods, unfazed by her hesitance. “We’ll drop your stuff off back at the hotel later ourselves so get on then. Kick 'em in the nuts if he try somethin’ you don’t want him to. Then call  _me_ , sis.

Mika rolls her eyes, tries not to smile. "Got it.”

“And you betta not even come back tonight either,” Terry says, pointing a warning finger at her. “Not until you lose that virgin card. Or I'mma have to whoop ya ass. You’ll never try BDSM after that.”

Laughing again, Mika sticks out her tongue and leaves with her messenger bag, ignoring their shouting of "good luck on getting lucky."


	2. Chapter 2

She only had three hours until the con closed, meaning booths will be broken down about an hour beforehand.

Mika hurries back to the hotel to take a shower and pull on some warmer clothes. The sound of rushing water calms her nerves, its coolness thickening her jelly-like limbs. Cramped and generally uninviting as the hotels bathrooms are, its walls deadens the worries of the outside world.

Stepping out of the bathroom with more confidence, she's greeted by the rich orange glow bathing the stained hotel carpet. The dying sun warms back of her bare calves with the remainder of the day's sticky, hot weather. Rummaging through her bag, Mika sets out a thin gray sweater and ripped blue jeans, perfect to fight the oncoming chill that’s creeping under the thick blanket of Summer’s day.

All the while, she can’t get Terry and Jamal out of her head. Their words slip over her as easily as her sweater. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, leaving shaky palms and weak knees battering away at her body like thousands of tiny wings.

Mika had expected to be a little struck at meeting Erik for the first time. Eventually, she'd like to believe she would have found her voice to ask him those meaningful questions she'd laid up at nights thinking. Thanking him for his work that’s pulled her out of her worst days. Those plans were tossed out now; out of all the things she'd thought he’d written in her novel she hadn’t expected something so...intimate.

Did he merely catch on to how excited she was about meeting him and was just being nice? Had he done this before? When she arrives back at the con will there be other fans he’d invited to stay back? Or was it something else…

Huffing irritably, she makes a mental note to yell at Terry and Jamal for adding more worries to his message. Pacing around the hotel room wouldn’t get her the answers she desperately needs, so she grabs her messenger bag.

Hailing a taxi, she climbs in and makes herself small. She feels so- extremely - right now. Her fingers drum noisily on the seat. The cab driver keeps shooting her looks in the rearview mirror. Taking out the book for the fifth time since leaving, Mika worries her bottom lip as she re-reads the words he’d written to her. The care he'd taken. The _heart_. Mika slides down in the seat, the book pressed closely against her chest.

She arrives at the con at eight. Perfect timing. The place was less crowded than before. Quieter and dimmer, yet somehow endlessly vast. It's like an entirely different place - realm -  a look behind the magician's curtain.

She weaves herself through the small gatherings of people, her legs growing heavier with each step.

When she gets to the room where Erik had been signing autographs they're already dismantling the booth and taking down banners. People are snapping last minute photos and lingering around talking to each other, others clutch notepads in hand with a gleam in their eyes that’s set for a quick interview.

Mika ambles around them, crossing her arms and scanning her surroundings, does her best to blend in, a blob absorbed amongst the canvas of blurred colors, lest she gets kicked out.

She spots Erik behind the banner talking to a tall, bald woman who held an dominating, confident poise to match her long, stylish coat you couldn’t help but be drawn to. A graceful silhouette with a physique that tells she trains at the gym- _regularly_.

Beside her was a younger girl, bright and laughing, also dressed down. She, too, had an ease of confidence to her. Mika wonders who the two were, completely taking center of the room with the energies they give off. She unconsciously straightens her own posture.

Erik scans the crowd of people outside of the room. Mika does a little wave to get his attention and he grins widely, it makes her heart jittery. Crooking two fingers, he gestures for her to come over.

Mika notices there was a rather large ring on his finger that she hadn’t noticed before. She inspects it curiously, desperately hoping no woman had snagged him up even though she knows the chances of catching his attention in  _that_ way was laughable.

Mika walks over to him and the two women, smiling a bit shyly. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” he drawls, staring at her from under hooded eyes. He licks his lips, leaning forward as she shuffles closer, his voice low and private. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Mika murmurs, swaying closer to him.

Erik puts an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, her arm going around his waist, drawn together like gravity. It feels comfortable and easy as if she's been doing it her whole life. As if she's known him her whole life. Where he’d felt tall and intimidating earlier even when sitting down, now he’s the complete opposite. Mika wants to bury herself inside him, like a small animal seeking darkness and warmth.

Erik points to the younger girl eyeing her curiously. “This my troublemakin’ ass cousin, Shuri.”

“As if you could talk,” Shuri says, brows rising accusingly. “And…who is this?” She sing-songs, staring at Mika with wide, curious eyes to match her eyebrows.

Mika introduces herself with more confidence than she believe she'd had. She glances between Shuri and Erik, not sure if she should say more. Thankfully, he speaks up before there's an awkward lull.

“And this right here is Ayo," Erik jabs a finger at the stoic looking woman, " _Shuri’s_ friend.”

Ayo doesn't greet her, simply cutting her eyes between Mika and Erik. Mika breaks eye contact first, feeling on display under the woman's perusal.

“You go do you cousin,” Shuri flaps her hands dismissively breaking the tense silence, craning her neck over the dense crowds. Shuri appears none the wiser, a facade on her part perhaps. "I am going to check out that twerking Snorlax having a dance battle with Deadpool.”

“Don’t get lost, baby cuz." Erik nods, his hold in Mika tightening. "And message Ayo when you done. I ain’t finna come lookin’ for yo lil ass later.”

Shuri flips him off and squints her eyes slyly, looking back and forth between him and Mika. “Mm-hm…you do that, cousin.” She strolls off with Ayo following, looking over her shoulder at the pair. Erik rolls his eyes and huffs.

“She such a handful,” he grunts, shaking his head with a short laugh. “It’s her first convention and I swear she been up and about for thirteen straight hours now.”

Mika smiles, knocking into his chest. “I was exactly the same way," she laughs, still nervous. "The next morning I couldn’t even get out of bed with how sore and tired I was.”

“Yeah, she gon' go through it tomorrow morning,” he hums, bending down and picking up a duffel bag, he puts his arm back around her and pulls her along with him as he begins to walk from the crowd.

She couldn’t believe she was here right now with her favorite artist! All of her smart, insightful questions she'd planned slips from her mind at his closeness.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, smoothing his hand down her back; and now Terry’s in her head unhelpfully yelling about fucking.

Erin takes her to a cafe but neither of them feeling particularly hungry. Con goers crowd this place as they do every other place she'd passed to get here. A few people side eye him curiously so the two quickly move towards a back booth. Some time passes before the waiter stops checking on their table altogether when he figures out they only ask for coffee refills.

She thinks Erik asks more questions than she asks him. He’s firing them off back to back, his posture closing her between him and the cool brick wall. When he asks about her job Mika eagerly mentions her side job.

“I work at a fabrics store which is perfect for me really, cuz I have a side thing makin’ costumes and prom dresses and things like that. Sort of got a makeshift studio in my garage now. Y'know…masks and outfits and weapons.”

“Oh, forreal? So you an artist yourself, huh?”

She waves the compliment away, face hot, but he questions her for more. She doesn't mind, the more she talks to him she begins to like him not just as Erik the artist but as  _the personal side peeking out_.

“Can I draw you?” He asks.

“What?” She chokes on a laugh, caught off guard by the random question but his expression remains serious. Her brows pinch in a mixture of amusement and confusion. “Draw me?” Mika shifts more sideways, tucking a leg under her. “Why you wanna draw  _me_?”

“Maybe cuz I like the way you look and the energy you givin’ off,” he says, shrugging. “Maybe I wanna make you my own.” He frames his hands to get a view of just her face.

Laughing, she lightly slaps his arm. “Please…” She shakes her head, feeling vulnerable at his unashamed honesty.

“I’m serious right now.” He looks her over, slow and pointed, grinning when he catches your eye again and she looks down at the table. “You a perfect muse.”

“Oh, really?” She challenges, narrowing her eyes playfully and propping a fist under her chin. “What makes me the perfect muse?”

“Dunno…can’t really discern nothin solid from you.”

“What?” Mika gawks in disbelief, chuckling. “I’m being completely open to you right now. This face-” she gestures to it around in circles, “open.”

Erik’s face twists in smug thoughtfulness. “Not buying it. Feels too sly. Poised. Similar to the way Mona Lisa had.”

She rolls her eyes. “I am not no Mona Lisa.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Poor comparison, right? Bitch was fugly.”

“Erik!” She gasps in shock, swaying back and laughing loudly.

“She is. Why you laughin? I’m being serious right now.” He leans against the table, sucking his teeth while he regards her. “While  _you_  gotta face that…” he pauses, moving his hand back and forth as he cuts his eyes at her. "Both kinda blends in with the crowd but stands out at the same time. Like, shit, a spy would or somethin’. A woman of many masks. Therefore, you the perfect muse.”

“Please." She scoffs.

“So can I?” Erik cocks his head, eyes glinting in amusement. “I mean, I got the paper and utensils on hand, ma, you gon’ pose for me?”

Crossing her arms, she turns her eyes skyward and hums contemplatively, teasing him. “I dunno…that’s what cameras are for ain’t they?”

Erik grins at her response. “Yeah, but I think I can capture you better. Stop actin’ all shy.” Erik grabs the duffel he’d sat on the table and opens it, ruffling through some things. He comes back out with sketchpad and pen in hand.

“Wow.” Her brows rise in amusement. “You really serious about this, huh?”

“Best believe it,” he says, firm and confident. He turns back to her, settling in with his sketchpad propped on his leg. He looks up at her. “A'ight, so…you perfect just the way you are,” he laughs as she begins to nervously fidget. “Be still for me.”

Mika freezes. She's leaned against the brick wall watching him go to work, his eyes flitting from her to the paper, brows furrowed in concentration. Mika eyes his tongue peeking out and she presses her lips together to stop from giggling at what she considers an adorable tic.

“Can I talk at least?” Mika asks, heart pounding as he stares intensely at her face.

He smirks. “Yeah, you can talk. For now.”

“You never talk about the inspiration you got from Fairy Tales in Oakland…” she trails off, unsure if he was willing to talk about it one on one.

He hums positively and she takes a deep breath.

“Some people think it was loosely based on your real life. The- the bullying and loss and isolation Donnie went through. I mean, pretty much all of us go through it at some point but…what you drew…what you wrote…that was intense. The imagery and power behind Donnie’s worldview. When he flashes back to bein’ jumped by those dirty cops." Mika shudders. “I dunno, did you pull that from inspiration or was it somethin…” she trails off agaib awkwardly, realizing she may be overstepping some boundaries with such an ugly, raw question.

Erik looks back at her, his hand having stopped moving once she'd mentioned the cops. His eyes are hard, somber. “Well,” he clears his throat. “Imma be honest witchu, cuz I like you.” He looks back down at the pad, hand moving again but at a more leisurely pace. “I went through some shit growin’ up.” He shrugs, his face turning solemn. “Some of it, uh, was exaggerated and some not. I don’t…I don’t remember exactly how it went. You know memories are shifty things, they change and morph over time.”

Mika looks away, eyes watering at the look on his face. The sound of his voice. “Y'know what,” she says dismissively, “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have asked that and-”

“It’s cool. If I didn’t want to answer I wouldn’t have.” He sighs, mouth twisting. “Anyway, my pops reminded me how I, uh, used to draw when I was a kid. Like, non-stop if I wasn’t readin’ or playin’ ball. It was a form of escapism for me, I guess. And I had a good friend or two growing up. Put that all behind me when I got older though. Went to MIT. But then he told me he’d support me in whatever I wanted to do.”

“Sounds like your pops is a really great man.”

“Yeah…he is.”

The two in silence for a long time after that while he continues sketching her, the shouting and laughter of the diners fading out behind the corner booth.

Erik glances up at her, setting the pen down with a twitch of his mouth.

“Can I see?” She asks, leaning over on her knees to get a peek.

“Nah." He chuckles, flipping the pad closed. “It ain’t finished. I just did your outline and a couple details. I’ll finish it and give it to you- if you pose for me again.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Mika pouts a little. “Oh, okay, I see how it is.”

“What do you mean by that?” He teases.

“Well, it sound like you tryna hustle your muse.”

“Muses don’t get paid.”

“Nope. Pretty sure they got paid a lil something. Maybe it was in fruit baskets or chocolate or at least getting to see the artist’s drawing before anyone else.”

“I ain’t read about all that.”

She laughs as he goes to put up the sketch, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to start a petition, I’m sure even Mona Lisa’s ugly ass got paid something.”

Erik shifts over and suddenly they're extremely close for a three person’s booth. “I can pay you in kisses.”

His hand slides up her knee, the touch light and slow. Her eyes flutter as his thick fingers brush further down, along her inner thigh. Mika places her hand above his, too startled and out of breath to speak.

Erik moves closer so they're flushed against each other. “That good with you?” He asks, darting forward to place a quick kiss on her cheek.

Nodding, she bites her lip. Her face is burning, her breathing harder as he rubs and squeezes her thigh while he continues dropping kisses everywhere but on her lips.

Terry and Jamal were right.

Her emotions are all over the place right now, realizing what Erik’s intentions were had her anxiety amped up to the point of breaking. Her body however was reacting positively as he continues to massage her thigh. Kisses the corner of her mouth. His fingers were so close to the  _right_  spot, she was certain he could feel the heat of her core as she became wetter.

Tilting her head up, this time his lips meet hers and he groans in response. She pushes into his arms, deepening the kiss, his mouth incredibly warm and soft.

The only time a guy had been this forward with she'd made a poor excuse to duck out and leave. He hadn’t talked to her after that, even blatantly ignored her a year later when she'd ran into him at the store.

Mika whimpers into Erik’s mouth and squirms in her seat as his hand continues his ministrations on her thigh.

“You good?” He breathes. “You gonna open up for me?”

She's not sure if he’s talking about her mouth or legs but both open up to him with little persuasion. Mika moans as his tongue invades her mouth and her eyes squeeze shut, nostrils flaring as his fingers tease her into wetness. Everything about him seems to be large and thick and ready to pry inside her. She completely forgets where she is until someone's shouting has her pulling away, a series of laughter following after.

“Another round!” Someone shouts.

“You won that time but you paying for the next one,” another person shoots back.

Erik presses his forehead against hers and they both laugh.

“Uh, maybe we should-” she pauses, voice clearly shaken and out of breath.

“You ready to get outta here?” He asks. His gaze runs over her heaving chest and parted lips.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

She sighs in relief when he moves his hand, cupping it and shouting for the waiter for his attention. “We ready for the check.”

“Got it,” he grins and nods before hurrying off, ecstatic that someone was finally leaving.

Erik turns back to her, rubbing a hand along her back which surprisingly has the effect of calming her despite what his hand was doing just a minute ago.

“I was thinkin’ we head to the hotel I’m stayin at,” he says. “That cool with you?”

“I…” she pauses, her heart beating loudly in her ears, mouth tingling and swollen from his kisses. Did she really want to go back to his hotel? Yes. Was she ready for whatever he anticipated at the hotel? She wasn't entirely sure.

“Hey, you ain’t gotta be nervous with me.” Erik drops a kiss to her temple, pulling you closer. “I'mma take real good care of you.”

The words sound so genuine and the firm hold he has on her says he’s not going to be letting you leave so easily.

“Okay." She breathes.

Mika wraps her hand around his and if she notices the way they're both hurrying to leave soon as the check is handled she doesn't mention it.

The drive to the hotel feels longer than it really is. Erik keeps leaning over to kiss her at every stop sign and red light. She wasn't helping his resolve any the way she was softly moaning, greedily cupping his face between her hands. Just the simple act of his mouth and tongue and teeth on her skin firing your whole body up.

Things were moving so fast it was hard to think clearly. The growing, needy ache between her legs clouding her mind.

The hotel they pull up to is nice, much more so than the one she and her friends had booked. Erik tosses his keys to the valet and she doesn't miss the way the man stares knowingly at them. Mika's not in the right mind to be embarrassed right now.

Erik crowds her into the elevator and when the door slides shut he captures her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. Her arms go around his neck and she leans into him. He squeezes her ass, pulling her up and against his very obvious erection.

“You did that,” he snarls, nipping at her lips.

The elevator dings and opens. Mika laughs giddily, pushing at Erik’s shoulder to let her down but he refuses so she scrambles up, wrapping her legs around him, sucking kisses onto his neck. He carries her down the hall like that. She hears the card sliding, the locks shifting, the click as he opens the door. And then he’s carrying her inside.

Erik kicks the door shut and carries her across the room, patting her thighs signalling to loosen her hold.

Her breath catches as he lets her slip out of his grasp and fall onto the bed, the mattress bouncing. Erik crawls over her and if he hadn’t made his intentions clear earlier he does know, rocking eagerly between her thighs.

Mika's vision spins, she's a mess of moans and gasps, breath become shorter as she hyperventilates. Everything was moving too fast. He kisses her, hips snapping sharply making her body jerk up. She turns her head away, shivering and squeezing her eyes shut. The words ‘stop’ and 'wait’ choked up in her throat as his hands dive under her shirt.

Her hands shoot up to lay flat against his chest, undecided if she wants to shove him away or curl her fingers in his shirt and pull him closer. Everything felt so sensitive and raw. Intense. And try as she might it was difficult to catch up. She cries when he thrusts against her again, a combination of fear and pleasure-pain hitting her sharply in the stomach.

He slows down and eventually stops altogether when Mika fails to react in any way, simply laying there against an onslaught of sensations. Hesitantly, she opens her eyes to find him regarding her closely while she lays there, panting.

His eyes narrow perceptibly and he rolls his tongue around his mouth. He’s quiet for a long time before he says, “you a virgin.” It’s not a question. He sees it as clear as her watery eyes and shaking hands.

She freezes, holding his gaze unblinkingly. Mika opens her mouth. Close it, swallowing dryly. “How can you tell?” She asks anyway, quiet and resigned as he pulls further back.

Erik sits back on his knees. Sucks his teeth. “I can tell when I got a virgin in my bed, sweetheart, versus somebody who just a lil shy and nervous.”

She tongues nervously at her bottom lip which she notices immediately catches his attention. Sighing, she throws an arm around her eyes.

“Oh,” she exhales shakily, looking around the room as her ears grow hot in embarrassment. Mika wills herself not to cry at being put on the spot, at his closed off expression, or her complete lack of experience. “Um…do- do you want me to go?”

“What? Fuck no, girl.” He laughs, moving her arm. “It’s just…shit, it’s been a while since I had someone who ain’t, well, never  _had_.”

Mika pulls a face at his censored words. “I never had sex, Erik, I’m not sheltered,” you huff nervously.

She squirms self consciously under him. There's a heaviness in his following silence. Mika picks at the folds of her shirt as he stares and stares down at her for way too long with dark eyes. It’s like he’s peeling through the layers of her, the way he had not even half an hour ago when sketching her: outline first, followed by the most basic features, then the hair and clothes, all the little details.

Mika diverts her attention away from his hard, shameless leering. It makes her uncomfortable. Where it might give someone with experience here confidence it only serves to make her more nervous and open in a way you’ve never felt.

The shift in the air was thick and palpable and sat heavily upon her as he is physically. The thought of coming up with some excuse to leave runs through her mind more than once, but she doesn't dare move a muscle, frozen in both want and fear. Is this how her first time was supposed to be like?

The back of his hand caresses Mika's cheek. She shuts her eyes, trembling.

“Calm down,” he tells her, pressing a thumb to her quivering lip.

Mika's focuses on her breathing and the aching chest. In an out. In and out.

“You want this?”

She nods.

“Look at me.” He pauses while he waits for Mika to open her eyes again. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yes, I want this.” This time her voice is stronger, albeit still a little awkward, and only then does he react.

Something shifts between the two as Erik moves his hand, his weight on top of her becoming a source of comfort, like a weighted blanket absorbing all of her anxieties.

“Aight then.” Erik’s eyes roam over her face, contemplating. “Ya jeans…take 'em off,” he demands in a soft voice.

Mika blinks up at him, mind lagging to the meaning of his request. He tugs at her waist band, not impatient but in a way to say he won’t ask again. It’s now or never.

His confidence allows her to slink back into her mind. Her fingers move to the button of her jeans. Mika holds his stare, not wanting to break it and turn doubtful now as she unzips her pants.

Erik makes a noise at the back of his throat as she lean up and attempt to wriggle up and out from him. “So you gon’ let me be your first.”

She grows hot once more at the possessive growl in his tone, her breath hitching in anticipation. She gets up on her knees to tug her jeans down as far as she can go. Erik wraps an arm around her waist, pushing her back down. “Shirt too,” he grunts, tugging off her shoes, socks, and jeans.

Moving her braids over her shoulder, she pulls her shirt off. Erik presses an encouraging kiss to her lips, waiting for her to lean in before he breaks it. “Lay back down for me. You look ready for me already,” he grins. “Like you gonna come if I so much as put a finger in you.”

Mika swallows down the moan rising in her throat, eyes widening as he grins, like he knew how she'd react to his words. She jumps when Erik touches her, his calloused hands running along her torso, arranging her as he pleases. “Take these off,” he orders next, hand brushing over her panties.

She hooks her fingers into the waistband and arches up against him as she slides her panties down mid-thigh, bending her knees to push them lower.

Erik grips her wrist, guiding it between her legs. “Here. Wanna see you do it.”

“Wait, what?” She responds, dazed.

He doesn’t answer her as he moves away, kissing the inside of her wrist before pulling back and off the bed to where she can’t see him.

“Stay down,” he says when she moves to sit up. “Touch yourself.”

Mika blinks repeatedly up at the ceiling, the urge to close her legs _strong_. She can feel the heat of Erik's stare on her, taking all of her in. “I- I can’t,” she mumbles in discomfort.

“If you can’t then I sure as hell can’t. How you expect to go through this is if you nervous, virgin?”

She doesn't answer him because  _fuck_  he did have a solid argument. Huffing, she lightly brushes a hand over her damp curls. “Erik…” Mika huffs again, feeling too exposed and self conscious to masturbate in front of someone. Hell, the whole reason for pleasuring herself was to do it  _alone_ because no one ever did it for her.

“I ain’t askin’,” he warns, firm. “Go on. Do it,” he says softer. “Like you would at home.”

Cursing, she rubs more confidently, her eyes sliding shut as you do. At first, she feels too nervous to register anything but pressure. It does nothing for her. And then Erik starts talking.

“Spread your legs wider, baby girl, I know you can do it. I was just right between 'em- that’s it. Right there.  _Good girl_ ,” he croons. “Don’t you move anything but ya arm or we gon’ have to start over.”

Nodding, her fingers slide against her wet folds. She hears Erik sigh from somewhere near the foot of the bed, her brows furrow as she hears him moving around the room.

“Erik?”

“Be a lil more confident than that now,” he tsks. “You pretend you fuckin some pussy or dick when you do this? Pretend it’s me.”

Mika keens softly, pressing the heel of her hand against her clit as she rubs faster, firmer as he keeps up a steady barrage of suggestions and praises. “ _Fuck_ ,” she gasps, chest heaving.

“Fuck is right. Whatchu waitin’ on?”

She rolls her hips, hissing as she convulses, wanting more than the external slide of her hand.

“ _C'mon_ ,” he says, impatience edging into his voice. “Lemme tell you that you really don’t want me in you right now. Cuz I'mma take and leave yo ass so worn out and sensitive you gon’ be cryin’ and beggin’ for me to let up.”

“I…I want you,” Mika confesses, throat raspy. She wriggles in embarrassment and something tiny and sharp smacks against her calf.

“What I say? No moving. And nah…nah, you can’t take me. Not yet. Go on and put ya fingers in.”

“I don’t-” Mika squeaks in protest as his hand covers hers, manouvering two of her fingers back.

Slowly, she pushes them in. Her heavy breathing loud in her ears as she starts to pump her fingers in and out with a soft sigh. It takes the edge off a bit but she'd still rather have him.

She bites her lip so hard it throbs and she tastes copper as she fight back her moans.

Chuckling, Erik starts up again. "Yeah, you ain’t ready for these fingers yet. Especially not for this dick,” he says, the teasing smile in his voice evident. “Gotta loosen you up. Get you outta that shell.”

His voice spurs her on, settling over her with a warmth like Summer heat.

“But you doin’ good,” he encourages. “You lookin’ so good for me. Already soakin’ wet and I ain’t even touch you.”

Her head lolls back as your walls greedily clench against her fingers. She shouts in surprise when she finds that tiny, smooth numb, her fingers become wetter as she sets a steady pace.

“This how you would do it at home? Yeah, you would…” Erik’s voice drops low. “Gonna slide in slow first so you commit it all to memory next time you home alone…”

Moaning, she arches her back. A sharp sting from a tiny object hits your calf and she drops back down.

“Stay still,” he warns. “Go faster. Play with ya clit, fuck you holdin’ off for?” He chuckles.

Groaning, she swipes her tongue over her lips. “ _You!_ ” She huffs, high and needy.

“Me? You don’t need me messing you up.” He says hoarsely. “You good just like that. So good…”

“Erik,” she gasps, growing as annoyed as she was aroused. It was so damn hard not to move with her fingers, to not hold off until she feel his hands on her. But it was too good to stop once she'd gotten to a certain point, too selfish and uncontrolled not to reach that peak.

Erik curses and any illusion of control crumbles momentarily when he moans her name, broken and low. “You almost there?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she whines. “ _Erik_.”

Erik hums. “Yeah?”

Her hips move desperately as she pumps her fingers faster, her thumb rubbing against her clit. He doesn’t smack her leg this time. She thinks she'd start crying if he did. She was so close. “ _Erik_ …” she whimpers, his name repeatedly spilling from her pleading lips in a crazed, heated mantra like he was the one touching _her_. But he's so far away, it's just her and her hand. Her leg slips from where it’s braced, thighs quivering. “Fuck.”

“You almost there, baby girl.” The sound of his zipper is loud in the air, breaking her out of her muddy thoughts of _more_ and _faster_ and don’t _stop_. “ _Fuck_ , you got me hard and leakin’.”

Mika whimpers when she hears him masturbating. She encircles her thumb over her clit faster and rougher, listening to every grunt and moan he makes. Erik presses ragged, wet kisses on her heated skin causing her walls to twitch just as she drag your fingers back in. “ _Erik!_ ” Mika gasps, squeezing her eyes shut as she comes.

Twisting sideways, she curls in on herself, hips rocking shallowly to draw out her orgasm. Erik is still kissing her, crawling up her body. Mika hums weakly, finally dragging her fingers out of her.

Erik grabs her hand and hot wetness engulfs her fingers as he sucks and laves his tongue between the two digits. His clothed erection presses against her hip. She realize he still had his shirt and boxers on while _she_ was completely naked.

Mika moves onto her back and then his mouth is on hers in a deep, unhurried kiss. It's clumsy and wet and she can't get enough. She runs her hands underneath his shirt and down, squeezing his ass, her smile breaking the kiss when he moans.

“We not done yet,” he murmurs against her mouth.

“M'done,” she mumbles, surprised at the slight of frustration still there because  _he's_  barely fucking touched her.

Erik catches on to that, chuckling as he continues kissing up her body. “Whatchu mean you done?” He nips at her lip. “Hm?” His hot palms cup her bra, groping them before slipping his hands under. She groans tiredly, he lifts up just enough to unclasp the bra’s hook.

Mika giggles amusedly.

“What’s so funny?” She leans against the headboard while he’s busy tugging down her bra straps. He stops to run his hands up and down her tender sides making her giggle again, twisting away from him.

Getting the message, she takes her time removing the bra. Her earlier shyness was all but gone now, snorting, “you unhooked that a lil too well.”

Erik tongues at his teeth and Mika shivers at seeing a glimpse of his broad, flat tongue. “Why do I feel like you low-key tryna call me a hoe?”

She laughs even harder at that. “I- I’m not!”

Smirking, Erik hums, unconvinced. His gaze travels down to her exposed breasts. He bites his lip. “Uh-huh. Lay yo 'ol virgin ass back down and lemme show you a thing or two.”

The moment she spreads back under him Erik's on her, latching his mouth onto her breast. Her hand shoots up to his locs, the other grasping at his shoulder as his tongue roughly laves against her nipple, a pleasing contrast to his sharp teeth and soft lips. She rolls her hips, impatient and needy all over again.

After a particular hard suck that has her whimpering he looks up, grinning widely. “You like that?”

“Mm…well, yeah?” She says, smirking, as if it should be obvious with the way her hand was trying to guide him back down.

His hand slides up to grasp her other breast as he ducks back down to finish what he’d started. He rocks against her and she wraps her legs around his hips.

Erik moves lower, his kisses becoming sloppier and rougher along her rib cage and down her stomach. 

“I can’t wait to fuckin’ eat you out,” he growls in excitement making her laugh breathlessly.

“You can,” she says helpfully, stretching her limbs.

“Not tonight though.”

“No?” She asks, neither here nor there about it when she was already feeling high and lax.

“Uh-uh,” he says almost wistfully, gold canines gleaming. “Turn over for me.”

“I… don’t think I can,” she groans in exhaustion.

Gripping her around the waist, Erik flips her over with ease. Her startled yelp is muffled into the pillow, the mattress bouncing under the force. Mika sees his shirt thrown down onto the floor followed by his boxers and then his hands are under her again. He nudges her a bit as he leans down until his front is pressed flushed between her back. She hum, the feel and warmth of him making her feel whole

“I’m gon make it so you can’t get up out this bed tomorrow,” he promises.

She moans as she feels every throbbing inch of him, hot and slick, sliding up and down the length of her pussy.

Lining up, he nudges his head inside her making her tense. She clamps her mouth on her forearm.

Erik pauses. “I know you sensitive - everything sensitive - but I want you to hold on for me. A'ight?”

He waits for her nod and proceeds to slide his dick in further, snug in her tight, swollen pussy.

He drags his dick back out slowly before gently thrusting back in, his skin slapping noisily against hers. He does it again, his hand gripping her tighter as he starts to gradually open her up stroke by stroke. “You so wet and fuckin hot,” Erik groans, gripping you tighter. “Pussy perfect. It was just waitin' on me,” he laughs breathlessly.

Mika's mouth drops open in a loud moan as he strokes in the right spot. Hurriedly, her fingers scramble to gain hold of the sheets, back arching.

“Right there, huh,” he says gruffly, hitting it again as she rolls her hips back in tandem to his lazy thrusts.

He grinds against her. Her fingers claw at the sheets, the corners snapping under her vice grip.

Erik smacks her ass and she buries her face in the pillow, a loud, startled noise rings through her teeth at the hit.

“Don’t do that. Lemme hear you.” He smacks her harder, the sound echoing off the walls. Then again and again until she relents. Turning her head back, Mika cries out for him loud and clear. She squirms against him, the air growing unbearably hot and the delicious friction overwhelming after coming minutes earlier. She sucks in a shuddering breath as he roughly thrusts forward and slowly pull back out, eliciting a louder, higher moan from her each time.

Erik pounds into her, picking up speed and her legs part wider, pulling him in deeper. “That’s it,” he says, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat. “Take it. You got it.”

“Please,” Mika whimpers, moving against him but that only makes him louder. “I can’t. Erik.” She bites her lip, hard, trying to move up the bed but he leans heavier against her, pumping into her harder and grinding his hips. She can feel his pre-cum trickling inside her, mixing with her juices. It was too much. It was too intense, firing up her whole body at once, her skin tingling.

“You feel so good,” she stutters mindlessly as he fucks her hard and relentless, hardly recognizing her own voice. “Don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, you feel good to me too. Just a little longer, you bein’ so good for daddy,” he coos, slowing down to lean up and kiss the tip of her ear. “I'mma make you come so  _ah, fuck_ \- fuckin’ hard,” he growls low and deep, “when you finger yourself from now on you gon’ be screaming my name.”

The full bodied tremors of her oncoming orgasm has him remaining deep inside her. Her arms give up and her upper body collapses onto the bed, his rhythm never losing pace.

“Don’t stop, Erik, don’t…” Mika gasps over and over. “You feel so good in me.”

“Fuck, baby, yeah. I gotchu.” Erik forces her all the way down with his forearm on her upper back while he relentlessly pounds into her. All she can do is lay there and mindlessly take it, her eyes rolling back. “You mine?”

“Yeah.”

His hand clamps around her throat while the other presses on her lower back. Mika gasps as it becomes harder to breathe, eyes rolling back as the pleasure intensifies and mixes with the feel of the world closing in on her, leaving nothing but the two of them. His grunts and moans press into the shell of her ear. Her body snagging between the sheets and his skin. The bed knocks against the wall in protest as he gets closer. The aching heat building between her legs as he fucks into her with a desperate speed and force that only makes the feeling worse.

She's not so much moaning as she is shouting now with every thrust. Body trembling uncontrollably, she jerks up and curl in on herself as she comes for what feels like ages.

Erik stills inside her while she convulses around his dick. He lets out a loud, stuttering moan, hand gripping her braids as he comes insider her. “Fuck,” he spits out between gritted teeth, rocking against her a few times, panting and murmuring praises before slowly pulling out.

She's still trying to catch her breath as Erik settles beside her with a loud whump, blindly grasping the sheet to throw over her. “C'mere," he murmurs.

She readily moves over, resting her head against his sweaty, heaving chest. He wraps his arms around her and Mika feels...complete.

It’s then that she notices the open sketch pad at the foot of the bed. The scribbles and scrawls becoming more defined as she blinks away the haze of her orgasm.

The last thought that flits through Mika's mind before her eyes slide shut was that Erik had been drawing her pleasuring herself.


	3. Chapter 3

The sheets are soft and smooth rather than the thick, itchy fabrics Mika's used to fighting with in hotels. Springs from the mattress dig into her ribs or making her back ache was nonexistent. No flimsy excuse of a pillow to rest her head either; rather, it feels like what she'd imagine floating would be.

That terrible stench of burning dust from the AC unit was missing as well. There was no loud television from the room over to wake her up, or the hum of a vacuum, or car alarms going off. Terry wasn’t banging on the door like the police, yelling at Mika get her “lazy ass up.” All was strangely peaceful.

None of this alarms her as she slowly awakens, wishing she could drift back off to sleep before this rare bliss fades. But something prompts her to keep her mind alert. Even under the heavy weight of the blanket - a cocoon of warmth and security - she can’t be pulled back under to sleep.

She sighs, unfurling from the ball she's in to stretch. Eyes squeezing tighter against the blue tinted light of early morning, Mika squirms deeper under the covers to escape it. She nudges against something warm and unyielding.

She stiffens, brows knitting in confusion. There’s heat against her back. Too much of it. Too hot and definitely  **not**  a blanket

Her eyes flutter open, vision blurry and useless in the dark room. Wriggling back a bit, she pushes against the mysterious source and freeze.

It’s when she realizes that blankets don’t fucking  _breathe_  that denial is no longer an option.

Terrified, she jolts up with a shriek. Her limbs tangle in the sheets in her attempt to get away, which only makes the fall from the bed more frightening in her haze filled mind. Mika's body twists awkwardly, her back and arm hitting the carpet with loud thuds. Her legs kick fruitlessly on the mattress, still twisted around the blanket.

From her angle she can see the view of the city upside down. The sky is still dim, the moon flickering like a dying flashlight through wispy clouds. Murky bleeds of filthy gray and cold blue, melting together like washed away chalk on pavement, dull and indifferent.

“Shit,” she hears, a low growl emanating from above.

As a head of dreads comes into view her memory begins to race backwards, in an slow, almost mocking motion.

Oh.  _Oh._

Erik Stevens is staring down at her, eyes barely open. His face scrunches up in confusion and maybe even amusement. “Aye, you okay?” Voice thick and groggy with sleep.

A lie is on her tongue but she can’t speak it. “I forgot where I was,” she admits, embarrassment flooding through her. Now she's remembering and it won’t stop playing in her mind. From here, to the diner, getting ready, then Terry and Jamal cracking jokes.

The rest feels like a rush; broken images of an dream.

Chest aching and head swimming, Mika braces on her arms to kick and tug at the sheets until her legs are free and planted on the floor. Erik is still staring down at her, the corner of his mouth twitches. Her teeth click together noisily and she tries not to glare out of defense, instead looking around the room for the quickest escape route. And her panties. All she's wearing is an oversized white tee she doesn't remember putting on last night.

 _‘What it was is he put you in a dick coma,’_  comes Terry’s unhelpful voice in her head.

“Get back up here,” he demands, forcing her to confront the panic settling in her chest. His dark eyes narrow, as if he can read all of her doubts and insecurities.

“C'mon, I gotta be up soon anyway,” he mumbles, patting the bed flopping back down out of sight. A shame that he looks unfairly good in the morning.

Several stretches of silence later she decides to get up with what little pride she has left. His eyes flash open again to watch her climb back up.

 _This is not weird at all. Stop making it weird,_  she screams internally as he fixes her side of the blanket back over her.

Hotly, Mika lays back down facing  **away**  from him at the admittedly beautiful view of the city.

She can’t believe how fast events escalated last night.

The boldness she had displayed last night - that he’d teased out of her - that was definitely new and strange. Frightening. Intoxicating. And very much unlike her.

And she ate that up last night. He probably thinks she's just another groupie with no love for his work. Not that she has a thing against groupies; it’s just out of all people she'd never expected _herself_ to be in this situation. She didn’t have the highest or steadiest level of confidence, especially when it came to her looks. Except last night, again, an anomaly.

Now it was a new day and in the growing light of the morning she was back to the woman she recognizes. Just another fan of some artist who paid her a little attention. And that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Except it felt the exact opposite of that. New territory for her or not, she  _must_  have been in a coma if she can no longer read signals.

Time to mull over these conflicting feelings ends the moment Erik touches her. He seems to have other plans than going back to sleep, the pads of his fingers trailing up her thigh, trailing goosebumps along the skin. Mika holds her breath, expecting his next move, but that’s all he does for a while. This simple, absent touch until she starts to unwind and comfortably drift off. The only thing that keeps her from falling asleep is the vague ticklish sensation his touch brings.

“You awake?” He asks, voice hoarse from sleep.

Squirming, she tries not to giggle. “It’s hard not to be when you're doing that.”

Erik wraps an arm around her waist to drag her closer, his upper body hovering over her. He moves her braids aside, kisses your shoulder.

He rolls his hips against her ass, the back of her shirt rucking up to her waist as his fingers dig in her hips. His heart thundering in his chest just like her. It gives Mika the courage to turn around and face him.

“Thought you would be going back to sleep.”

“Nah, you keeping me up.” Erik pulls her on top of him, not bothering to take off his boxers.

Mika rocks against him but he’s holding her tight, setting a languid pace. She doesn't mind, having little energy to do anything else.

“You comin’ to see me later, right?” He asks, his gaze intense.

“What…at your panel?  _Uh, yeah_?” she huffs a laugh, thrown off guard. She can’t really think straight at the moment, she's not going to last long.

“I’ll be looking out for you.” He cants his hips up and you curse, nearly losing balance.

“Okay,” you pant, “whatever.”

Erik pulls her down by the hem of her shirt, pressing their foreheads together.

 _Neither_  of them last long. She comes and he follows; boneless, she collapses on top of him.

Standing had been a feat after that but she feels disgustingly sticky and in desperate need of a shower. Mika sets the water scorching hot and declines the opportunity of him joining her.

Enveloped in steam, the fog in her mind starts to clear. She's going over last night's events again when she notices something strange and foreign marking her skin. Tiny, black ink spots dot along the inside of her forearm, like a constellation.

Her breathing stops, the last image of Erik before she'd fallen asleep last night came back in perfect stills. There had been a drawing, on the bed.

_He’d been drawing her._

Mika covers her face, disbelief and embarrassment…flattery too, maybe? She laughs, madly, because that’s the only reasonable option. This was too wild for her to handle for her first time. She lets her hands fall back to her sides and frowns down at the white tiles. She's not entirely certain how these one night stands should go, but drawing someone fingering themselves wasn’t even on the list of possible things that could happen. Erik truly was an odd man…in an intriguing way- but, still odd.

When she hops out the shower half an hour later she finds him waiting by the door. She's wearing another one of his shirts and her jeans. She still can’t find her panties and whatever else she might have brought with her, and she's too tired to give a damn right now.

It's unreasonably freezing so she's thankful when he passes her one of his hoodies. It probably costs five times more than an exact copy would at the stores she shops in; but the fabric was soft in a way all well worn items are, and it has his scent.

“So, um, I’ll see you later?" Mika says, twisting her hands nervously. There’s no reason to overstay her welcome, the sun is rising and both of them have places to be. She's scared to check her phone, knowing she'll have a dozen missed calls from Terry and Jamal. Erik has his phone in hand, probably ready for her to go too.

“Yeah,” he grunts, glancing up at her before looking back down at his phone.

That was her cue to leave.

Making her own way back to her hotel had been completely out of the question. He says he wants to make sure she gets back to her hotel safe. Now she's riding in the back of a car glancing awkwardly at the driver named Folami who (thankfully) pays her no mind.

Maybe she cries a little when she's alone in her hotel but she'll vehemently deny it later. So much that down the road she'll be positive it was a dream born strongly out of her desire to cry.

She should be happy, _right_? Instead of the heavy, anxious pressure weighing down on her chest. Last night was amazing in every sense - even when she was nervous - she wouldn’t change a thing. It’s not her fault she apparently have _zero chill_. This was normal, right? Or maybe it’s the already strong feelings she had about him that’s been mixed in making her confused.

Making it to Erik’s panel was seeming less and less likely. Before she knew it she was curled up in bed, torturing herself on whether or not to go. She groans, wishing her emotions could match up with normal social cues. It was a one night stand and that’s  _that_ , but the spreading ache in her chest still won’t understand and go away.

What the hell had she been thinking in the first place? Mika had always wanted to meet someone special and commit to a relationship, she was a romantic like that. All Erik had to do was say a few slick words and- no, it wasn’t like that. She wanted him last night and she got him. Why does she feel so shitty?

It could be because she was nowhere near on the same level as him. Eventually, he’ll settle down with an hot instagram model or actor or director; someone who has their shit together. Someone - anyone - who doesn’t live on ramen noodles and can barely make rent, with no talent or appeal in any department to flaunt. Ten years from now he’s going to be working on movie projects while she's still doing costume commissions in her living room.

A banging on the door interrupts her overanalyzing angst. “Is you in there?” Terry shouts while not letting up on assaulting the door. “Hell-o!? Yo ass better be in there!”

“Please, stop!” Mika whines into the pillow, still loud enough for Terry to hear. She gets up and shuffles over to unlock the door. The knocking pointedly intensifies.

Terry busts in and grips Mika's biceps, her nails digging into the soft flesh as she pushes her back inside the room. “Where were you!? You didn’t text me last night!” She yells for the whole building to hear and begins swatting at her arm. “I was So. Damn. Worried!”

Terry pulls her into a hug and she gladly wraps her arms around her friend, not caring that the embrace is a little too tight and threatening.

“I could have sworn you told me not to come back last night." Mika's attempt at a joke falls flat, her glare withering the facade. "I’m sorry, I just…lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time!” She snaps. “You expected me to believe yo ass would really be out all night? I thought one of these nerdy ass white boys murdered you!”

“All right, chill. I’m alive and whole as you can see.”

Terry’s eyes roll to the ceiling and she turns her back, crossing her arms.

“I  _am_  sorry." Mika tries again, voice sickly sweet. She pokes her in the side and Terry squirms, batting her hand away.

“ _So_..." Terry clicks her tongue and it echoes off the walls, she narrows her eyes, winged eyeliner cutting into Mika's weak defenses. "Tell me what happened last night before I choke slam your ass.”

"Not a whole lot.” Mika laughs and it’s awkward, she glances at Terry over her shoulder. “Why? What did you expect?”

Terry sidles over to the bed and sits on the edge, crossing her legs and lacing her fingers atop her knee. “See, the thing is…I don’t  **accept**  that answer, like, at all, so…”

Mika gives a pitiful shake of her head, not wanting to talk about it and; she's not even sure how to bring it up without breaking down. Other than googling 'what to do when you have sex with your hero’ she's at a loss.

 _Calm down_ , she tells herself, he’s just like anyone else.

Whose work she's only devoted countless hours to.

And now she has to go see him at his panel. Hard pass on that.

“Hey!” Terry shouts, waving her arms around. “What happened!?” She looks increasingly worried by her odd behavior.

“We just…talked.” Mika winces at her cracked voice.

Terry's eyes widen as if to say  _'and?’_

Mika crosses her arms. “About his work, and stuff!” her voice rises defensively.

Terry’s frown deepens and she doesn’t say anything for a long time. Mika fidgets, tries to measure her breaths to portray a calmness she doesn't feel.

Sucking her teeth, Terry points out what Mika's been trying to avoid since this morning: “Then why do you look so…miserable?”

Oh, there’s a lot of reasons but none she wants to say aloud. She gnaws at her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry.

Terry’s eyes widen impossibly larger and she jumps up from the bed. “Wait- you didn’t say whether you were alone with him or not last night!  _Were you_?” She starts pacing the room, not even bothering to wait for a reply. “Ooh, I swear!” She pounds a fist against her palm. “ _Please tell_  me this nigga didn’t try somethin’ because if he did-”

“No! He was nice,” Mika rushes to say, heart racing.

Terry halts, not certain if she should believe her. Clearly, she must know by now Mika's still hiding something which is confirmed when she says, “you gon’ tell me every detail sooner or later, best believe that.”

Exasperated, Mika doesn't care what Terry thinks as long as she believes her right now.  Shoulders sagging in relief, Mika sighs. “I just…I lost track of time.” She nods to herself, trying to make the omission (lie) real to her ears.

Jamal saunters in, looking everywhere but at the two of them like he hadn’t been eavesdropping. “I bet I know what happened. You talked to him and he didn’t live up to your expectations. Man, that’s why you should never meet your heroes. All that hype is just fancy dress up for the cameras and interviews. They’re all either alcoholics or drug addicts or normal assholes like the rest of us.”

“You didn’t take any drinks from him, did you?” Terry blurts out.

Scowling, Mika trudges over to her travel bag. “I’m not stupid!”

Terry gives her a once-over, humming doubtedly. “Hmm, you awfully jumpy for some reason- and I'mma find out why,” she declares. “You know you’re a terrible liar.”

“Okay. Are we leaving out or not before the con gets crowded.”

“Yup, whenever you’re ready,” Jamal says.

Both still give Mika the side-eye while she goes through her luggage, hurriedly fitting Erik’s hoodie in the bag before they can recognize it as not hers. She grabs one of her own jackets to throw on. Mika don’t think she can dress up fancy today, she's already felt strange and exposed enough.

Although she can’t hear them Mika can _feel_ their conversation behind her back, mouthing words and gesticulating, playing detectives.

Maybe she  _should_  confess but something keeps her from even mentioning Erik’s name. Other than the fact that they’ll make a big deal out of it and embarrass her for days. Knowing them, they’d probably get her a congratulations cake.

Whatever suspicions they may have when she turns around are concealed. An awkward silence that’s all her fault hangs over the trio; so much for the perfect weekend.

Jamal walks over and wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. “Aw, don’t worry. Not everyone can be a Nichelle Nichols.” He rocks her side to side. “Dude is overrated anyway.”

Mika groans, but a little of that nervousness dissipates as they squeeze her. “Liar,” she sniffs. “What’s the plan for today?”

Terry frowns, regarding her closely. “What do you mean what’s the plan? I thought we were going to Erik’s panel?”

Mika shrugs, hoping it comes off casual and dismissive. “I don’t know. I think we should do something else, it’s not like people won’t be talking about it online anyway.”

Terry and Jamal exchange glances. “ _Sure_ ,” Terry drawls, frown depending. “If that’s what you want.”

Mika nods. “Yeah, I do. Let’s go do something fun.”


End file.
